


Samhain

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 18:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Sam and Al get up to mischief on Halloween, and get a few surprises of their own.  Takes place during the early years of Sam and Al's partnership.





	Samhain

**Author's Note:**

> Old story written in 1991.

The dark figure slunk along the edges of the lawn, eyes darting around furtively. The crisp autumn air stung his nostrils with a faint scent of decaying leaves and wood-smoke from nearby homes. There was only one house he was interested in, though. It loomed in front of him, invitingly. The soft glow of lights spilled out of the windows, beckoning him. Children's voices sounded in the distance, their laughter ringing through the ether, but his mission this night was not for them.

He followed the shadowy path to the back door. Inside the tiny kitchen, a woman stood by the sink washing dishes. He waited until satisfied that she was alone, then reached for the doorknob. It turned soundlessly in his grasp, and he slipped inside with no more noise than the leaves blowing in the breeze.

His victim awaited, unknowingly. He approached slowly, each heartbeat bringing him closer to his quarry. He slid up right behind her, so close he could smell the wisp of her perfume, hear her breathing. Then, he reached out...

"Trick or treat!" he intoned in a guttural growl.

She spun around, seeing the grotesquely misshapen face and fangs, and screamed.

He pulled off his mask, smiling mischievously.

"Sam Beckett!" Ruth Calavicci grabbed the mask out of his hand and swatted him with it. "You scared me half to death!"

"You really shouldn't keep your door unlocked," Sam pointed out, reaching over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Not with the likes of you on the loose, that's for sure," she replied.

Al Calavicci entered the kitchen on the run, having heard his wife's yell. He slid to a halt when he saw Sam. "Oh, hi kid. Great mask!"

Ruth gave her husband a studied look. "Swift, oh man of mine. I would have been history if he'd been for real -- by the time you finally made it in here."

"I knew it was him," Al defended. "Most people grow up as they get older, see, Sam was real boring as a kid, so as he gets older, he gets worse and worse."

"You should talk," Ruth replied. "Two of a kind."

"Hey--I'm insulted!" Sam said indignantly, but he wrapped an arm around Al's shoulder.

"That'll be the day," she gave them a knowing smile. "Okay, boys, go play and let me finish the dishes."

"Sure you don't want some help?" Sam offered.

"Go," she said firmly.

 

* * *

 

They spent the evening passing out candy to the trick-or-treaters. Then, as the ringing of the doorbell tapered off, they sat on the couch dipping their hands into the left-overs. Ruth had gone to visit her parents for the night, leaving her boys to their own devices.

"So what are we gonna do tonight?" Sam asked, stuffing a Tootsie Roll into his mouth.

"We could always wander around and let trouble find us, that usually works," Al suggested.

"Off we go, into the night," Sam intoned, putting his mask in place.

"Off to find a party to crash," Al amended. "One with lots of gorgeous--"

"Al! You're a married man."

"You aren't. I can get my thrills vicariously."

 

* * *

 

Sam and Al walked through the neighborhood, talking and surveying the left-over of the damage they'd done the night before.

"There's your string theory," Al pointed to a yard of trees, artfully circled in toilet paper.

"I was just demonstrating to you, by creating a model," Sam explained innocently.

Al grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and peered into his ears. "You are so full of shit, it's seeping out of your ears."

"Just remember that."

"For what?" Al asked.

"I don't know, just remember."

"Speaking of memories, when I was a kid, we used to have this haunted house, a great place to take the girls. We'd tell 'em spooky stories and they'd start shaking and cuddle up to us..." He demonstrated by moving closer to Sam. "After that it was a piece of cake."

Sam wrapped an arm around Al's waist, pulling him closer. "Ooh--I see what you mean..."

"Wise guy!"

"You love it." After one last squeeze, Sam released him. "Let's go to Joseph's."

"It's boring over there, just Ruthie and her parents, watching television."

"No, I mean the funeral parlor."

"You're joking?!" Al exclaimed.

"It's the perfect thing to do on Halloween night. The veil between the worlds is especially thin this time of year. You aren't afraid, are you?" Sam taunted.

"Of course not. I don't believe in things I can't feel."

"So, let's go see if we can feel any ghosts."

 

* * *

 

They snuck around the back of the building, and Al used the set of keys he had to open the door. They slipped inside, holding their hands in front of them so as not to bump into anything. Al led the way, since he was most familiar with the layout.

"Now that we're here, what do we do?" Al asked.

"Wait till midnight," Sam answered. "That's when they come out."

"Sure," Al snorted, glancing back at his friend. Not looking where he was going, he tripped over a chair and fell, causing Sam to run into him. They both ended up on the floor.

Sam picked himself up, sitting next to Al. "We could always tell ghost stories," he offered, making himself comfortable.

"How exciting. I don't think my heart can stand it," Al quipped.

"Tom and I used to pretend the corn field was haunted. We'd sneak out of our window, go way out in the middle of the field, and tell ghost stories. Actually, he used to tell them to me. The first time, I was about five, I got so scared I ran into the house crying. Woke up the folks. He made my life hell for months after that, for tattling."

"I bet," Al commented mildly. He would never voice the comment in his head--show disapproval, even though it bothered him to hear about Tom's mean streak toward his sensitive younger brother.

"But when I got older, it was fun. I even managed to scare the shit out of him a few times."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Al asked.

"There is no scientific basis for them."

"What about the theory that an energy or aura remains?"

"That's possible. The problem is that 99% of the cases of haunting you hear about are sensationalized and fake. The remaining 1% is too fleeting to measure or prove by existing methods."

"Except for nights like tonight," Al observed. "I can feel something strange in the air already. It reminds me of the Halloween night I made the mistake of taking Elsie into that haunted house in my neighborhood..." he began the tale.

"Do tell," Sam said, smiling into the darkness and settling down for a good story. "What happened?"

"Well, we'd just finished our trick or treating, and I suggested we go inside to get out of the cold. So we climbed through a broken window, and went up to a back bedroom to check out our goodies."

"I'm sure you wanted to check out her goodies," Sam added.

"Of course. The thing was, I got the rooms mixed up, and took her to the one room in the house we never went into. The room where the murders took place."

"What murders?" Sam asked, enjoying himself.

"In 1902, the guy who owned the house went crazy, killed his whole family in that room. For no reason. Some claimed evil spirits possessed him. They said he was a great guy up till that night. Then he herded all five of them into that room and cut off all their fingers with a butcher knife. He made them eat each other's fingers, while he watched. Then he cut off the toes..." He reached out and grabbed Sam's foot.

Sam was so engrossed in the tale, he didn't notice until he felt it. He jumped, stifling a yell of shock. "Al!" He swatted the hand.

"For emphasis. Anyway, then he finished them off slowly, by peeling the skin away from their bodies--like he was peeling an orange. In the end, they were begging him to kill them. When they would pass out from the pain, he'd bring them to again. Finally, he got bored and just hacked away with an axe until they were dead."

"There must have been a lot of screaming, why didn't one of the neighbors call the police?"

Al was ready for Sam's practical mind. "They assumed it was a Halloween prank. Finally they did call, but it was too late."

"What happened to him?" Sam asked.

"He chopped off his own head with the axe, before the cops could arrest him."

"Gross."

"Very. Ever since, he waits for Halloween, in hope of getting more victims. And we went into that room, on Halloween."

"What happened?" Sam asked in his turn.

"Well," A howling close by, startled him. They both jumped. "What--"

"Wind's picking up," Sam explained hastily. "It must be whistling through a crack in a window." His eyes darted nervously.

After a minute, Al resumed the tale. "Anyway, Elsie and I were sitting there, going through our pillow cases -- that's what we put the candy in, in those days. I started telling her the story I just told you. Halfway through, she was moving closer to me, all shaky and vulnerable. So I put my arm around her. She snuggled into me. I assured her I'd protect her, and kissed her to prove it. I began rubbing her back soothingly. I finished telling the story, and started to kiss her again. We were feeling each other up, really enjoying ourselves-- then I remembered what room we were in."

"I bet that put a damper on your bump in the night," Sam remarked snidely. "Serves you right, sleaze-bag."

"I'll have you know that got Elsie even hotter. You know how sometimes fear can turn a person on. She was moaning, pushing her body against mine. I unbuttoned her blouse, cupping her firm mounds in my hands. Her hands went to the zipper of my pants. At that point, I was too far gone to care what room we were in. Her blouse and my shirt were off. It was pretty chilly that night. I remember feeling the goose-bumps from the cold air hitting my exposed skin. Then she was warming it with her tongue, you know, when the contrast heightens the sensations. She licked my chest with the tip of her hot tongue, then the cold air would follow. She slid that tongue all the way down, and--

"Al! What kind of a ghost story is that?!" Sam demanded, in a shaky voice.

"And just when she started to take my cock into her mouth--we heard the bloodcurdling scream."

"Kids outside?"

Al paused meaningfully. "It came from inside that very room," he intoned dramatically.

Sam's eyes grew large. "What next?" he whispered.

"It was _my_ scream, she'd never done that before, and accidentally bit it."

It took a moment to sink in, then Sam's eyes narrowed.

Al burst out in laughter. "Got ya!" he crowed, rolling on the floor in a fit of mirth.

"You total sleaze!" Sam exclaimed, starting to hit him with the mask. He was trying hard to remain stern, but failing miserably.

"I love it when you use pet names," Al cooed, fending off the attack.

Sam was relentless. Al tried to crawl away, but Sam pounced on him. "There's gonna be a new story, this one about a man who beat another man to death with a Halloween mask in a funeral parlor," he warned.

Al finally stopped laughing long enough to wrestle the mask away, and turned it on Sam. A few swipes later, they were both stopped abruptly by another noise.

Silence reigned. Finally Sam broke it. "What was that?"

"Wind?" Al ventured.

"It came from in here," Sam whispered.

"I'm not gonna fall for that, Sam."

It came again, a quiet banging sound that did indeed come from inside the room.

They looked at each other. The next five minutes were devoted to careful listening, but the only sound now was their harsh breathing.

Maybe it was a rat?" Sam finally suggested.

"Did it sound like one? Besides, Joseph is careful to make sure there aren't any. Doesn't want them getting into the--"

"I get the idea!" Sam cut him off hastily. "Al, are there--is there any...here tonight?" They both stared at the coffin in the corner.

"You want to check it out?" Al asked.

" _Me_?!" Sam squeaked. "That's the direction the noise came from."

"There has to be a reasonable explanation, right Einstein?"

"Right," Sam said, trying to sound firm. He attempted to move closer to Al unobtrusively, but Al had the same idea. They ended up bumping into each other, but neither man moved away.

"You're just trying to spook me, right Al? You used to go into that house all the time, this can't possibly bother you."

"This is a funeral parlor, not a haunted house. Besides, I just remembered a true story that happened to my grandfather."

"True?"

"I swear it," Al nodded. "He was what they used to call a hobo. He wandered around the country, relying on the kindness of people to give him a hand, some food, or change. One night he was sleeping in the back room of the local undertaker. One of the bodies sat up in its coffin. He ran the hell out of there, and never went back."

"Al..." Sam studied him skeptically.

"You gotta remember, Sam, they did things differently in those days. They didn't have the sophisticated embalming procedures, or medical knowledge. Sometimes...they goofed."

"Oh God..."

"Can you imagine somebody thinking you were dead, and--"

"I'd rather not," Sam said firmly. He shivered.

In a totally unconscious move, Al put his arm around Sam's shoulder. "That was then, this is now," he said quietly. "You're not really scared, are you?"

Before Sam had a chance to answer, the noise came, louder this time. He jumped. "Of course not."

"Want me to do for you, what I did for Elsie when she was tense?"

"Huh??" Sam squeaked, shivering.

"I'm talking about a massage!" Al admonished, taking the rigid shoulders in his hands.

With Al's expert ministrations, Sam was soon sighing in relaxation. "That feels good," he enthused, leaning back into the caressing hands.

"'Course it does." Al felt the warm muscle under his hands, and suddenly the energy he felt wasn't in the air. It was in him. Now uncomfortable, he pulled his hands away.

With the end of the massage, Sam turned around to face him. "Thanks," he said softly, eyes locking with his friend.

They were very close. Al found he couldn't look away, though he knew he should. He felt himself move closer, half-believing he would never complete the move.

It happened more quickly than Al expected, and he realized belatedly, that he hadn't been the only one leaning forward--when warm lips met his. He heard Sam moan, and a wet tongue found its way into his mouth. He was already way past turning back--as if Sam would have let him stop what was happening between them. It was obvious Sam had no such intentions. So he pulled the pliant body closer to his own.

...And the lid of the coffin raised and fell with a loud bang.

They jumped apart, breathing hard. "What the hell--" Al stared at the coffin, then back at Sam.

"It wasn't--couldn't--" Sam stammered.

A dead body was just about to come rising up out of its coffin, and all Al could think about was the way Sam's lips looked after being kissed. Full, wet, and inviting--and infinitely more scary than ghosts. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and running out the back door.

 

* * *

 

Shortly, Sam joined him on the street. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Al couldn't meet his eyes. Didn't dare. "Yeah, except I just had ten years scared off my life. Was it--"

"A premature embalming? No. Weird, though. There was a cat inside the empty coffin. I guess he climbed in to go to sleep, and Joseph closed the lid without noticing. He was trying to get out."

"Jesus Christ."

"You think we were scared, you should've seen the poor thing." Sam chuckled. "He had his Halloween scare, too."

"I'm still not going back in there," Al announced.

Sam glanced at his watch. "It's a little late for mischief now," he agreed. "At least for that kind, anyway," he added.

As they began walking back, Al wondered what other kind of mischief Sam might have in mind.

 

 

the end

10/31/91

 

**Author's Note:**

> The story of the corpse that sat up is supposedly a true story, supposedly happened to my uncle, but who knows.


End file.
